


An Inconvenient Flutter

by niffizzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Christmas, Co-workers, D/Hr Advent 2020, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Romance, Wizengamot Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/pseuds/niffizzle
Summary: With Christmas just one week away, Hermione heads to Hogsmeade to complete her holiday shopping. She doesn’t expect to run into Malfoy along the way. Now, there will be one more person joining them for Christmas dinner.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 105
Kudos: 823
Collections: Best of DMHG, D/Hr Advent 2020





	An Inconvenient Flutter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for D/Hr Advent 2020. My prompts were shopping and cranberries.
> 
> I am absolutely *thrilled* and honored to have been invited to participate in Advent again this year. Big, massive thank you to everyone who nominated me and to the organizers of this fest who have been putting it on for ten amazing years! Additional thanks and love to mightbewriting for being my soundboard and beta for this story, even when I was the world's biggest procrastinator 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy ❤️

Thick snow blanketed the Hogsmeade rooftops, each one lined with fir garland, while snowflakes sprinkled from the sky above. With only one week until Christmas, last-minute shoppers packed the shops to bursting. To her disappointment, Hermione Granger was among them. 

Hermione huffed as she squeezed through a group of customers crowded around the shelves of succulent sweets that lined Honeydukes. This was precisely why Hermione preferred to complete her Christmas shopping weeks in advance. If Hermione’s heavy workload for the Wizengamot hadn’t kept her so busy at the Ministry all month, she would have been able to complete her shopping without feeling like she had to fight for a single box of Fizzing Whizzbees. 

Purchase complete, Hermione stepped back into the cold. She adjusted the scarf around her neck, then pulled a parchment from her bag and reviewed her list. Harry’s name at the top was already crossed off, as was Neville’s below that. The Crumple-Horned Snorkack earrings Hermione specially ordered for Luna hadn’t arrived yet, but she had finally figured out _something_ to get Theo and had just secured the special edition Chocolate Frog collection of this year’s Chudley Canon players for Ron. After spending the entire morning and half the afternoon shopping, Hermione was starting to feel better about the status of her list. 

Now, all she had left was the entire Wizengamot.

The snow flattened beneath Hermione’s feet as she strolled down High Street, deciding where to look next. Last Christmas, she knitted every Wizengamot member a plum scarf, so she couldn’t do that again—not to mention the amount of time it had taken to make them all. Quills were a safe option. She could buy them each a quill with Wizengamot-plum plumage, perhaps personalised with each individual member’s initials. 

As Hermione walked towards Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, she reviewed her list again to ensure she had covered everyone. Her attention was so set on the parchment, she didn’t notice the approaching wizard and knocked straight into him. 

They collided with an _oomph,_ sending Hermione a step backwards at the force of his taller, broader build. Her list fell to the snow. In a rush, she leaned down to grab it before the wetness made the ink run. 

“Sorry,” Hermione scrambled to say as she straightened. “I must have— Malfoy!”

She startled at the sight of the wizard in front of her, currently adjusting a portfolio of parchments, likely the cause of his own distraction. A distinctive heat prickled her cheeks despite the cool winter air. He was dressed in finely tailored robes, a stark contrast to the practical, structured Auror uniform she had grown accustomed to seeing him in. An emblem on the portfolio’s front flap caught Hermione’s eye, but Malfoy tucked it under his cloak before Hermione could make out anything more.

“Granger,” he greeted with a curt but pleasant nod. His eyes tracked to her collection of shopping bags, and a puckish grin quirked his lips. “Procrastinated on your holiday shopping? Whatever would the _Daily Prophet_ say if they learned of such a scandal.”

Good-natured jest coloured his tone—a long cry from his childhood jeering taunts—but that didn’t stop Hermione’s cheeks from flaring hotter. In the past three years, she and Malfoy had slowly grown amiable towards each other. It was all but necessary provided how often they interacted. She hadn’t gone more than two weeks without seeing Malfoy after the Wizengamot’s contentious decision to end his probation early and his subsequent joining of the Aurors as a Dark Arts specialist.

Since the legal system overhaul at the conclusion of the war, it was now routine for Aurors to present their evidence against the accused during criminal proceedings. Whenever Malfoy argued his cases, Hermione couldn’t help but admire his skill. His arguments were well-researched and hard to logically reason against. This year alone, Malfoy was responsible for catching thirty-seven per cent of sentenced Dark Arts practitioners. Not that Hermione had purposefully looked at his record. It just happened to be sitting on Head Auror Robard’s desk one day last week while she was waiting for him, and Hermione had been… curious. 

Remembering Malfoy still stood less than an arm’s length away, Hermione pulled her attention back to him, raising an eyebrow in the process. “I see no room for you to make any comments when you’re also in Hogsmeade the week before Christmas.”

“Don’t try to make this about me,” Malfoy dismissed _._ “Besides, I finished my holiday shopping weeks ago. It was quite easy when my list is so short this year.”

Hermione blanched. She hadn’t considered that. It had been all over the newspapers when Narcissa Malfoy, famed witch who betrayed the Dark Lord, passed away from Dragon Pox complications. With Lucius still in Azkaban for two more years, this would be Malfoy’s first Christmas without a parent home to celebrate. She empathised more than she wished she did. 

“Are you going to visit your father?” she asked, unsure if that was even a possibility.

Malfoy huffed, followed by an insincere laugh. “Absolutely not. I’d rather not subject myself to criticism about how my career decisions are a smear on the family name. No. Given my options, I’d much prefer to spend it alone.”

“Or you could spend it with us.”

The remark slipped past her lips before her brain fully registered what she had suggested.

Malfoy laughed again, honest this time, until he paused and creased his brow. “You can’t be serious.”

Hermione paused to consider. He’d given her an out, an opportunity to make light of the offer before anything came of it. Yet now that she’d extended the invitation, she couldn’t rescind it with a clear conscience. Not during the holidays. And especially not when she saw a glint of actual interest in his gaze. 

“We’re keeping it small,” she said instead. “Just me, Harry, and Theo. At Grimmauld Place.”

“Ah, so you’re inviting me to my family’s ancestral home?” The teasing had returned to his tone, tempered by scepticism.

“It may be the Black ancestral home, but it’s now Harry’s home. And mine.” 

“I doubt Potter will agree to this invitation.”

“If he gets to bring a guest, then I should as well.”

Malfoy’s scepticism deepened. “I believe the rules are different when Theo is his boyfriend, whereas I’m not yours.”

Hermione grew frigid, though no wind blew around her. Just like that, a vague memory from two months ago, with too many vodka cranberries and not enough proper judgment, came barrelling back. They never spoke a word about what almost happened, and she certainly wasn’t going to bring it up now. It would have been a mistake. It was better that it went unsaid, unaddressed, unchanged. 

“I merely prefer not to be a third-wheel on Christmas,” Hermione stated, hoping her cheeks didn’t betray where her thoughts had gone. “But that’s not the point. You shouldn’t spend Christmas alone if you don’t want to. I’m just giving you an option.”

Hermione heard nothing but the bustle of surrounding passersby as she gripped her shopping bags, waiting. Malfoy was unreadable. 

Finally, with a glint of levity in his eyes, he said, “I’ll think about it.” 

~*~*~

Green flames died around Hermione’s feet, and she stepped into the welcome warmth of Grimmauld Place. While she had intended for the living situation to be temporary in the immediate aftermath of her and Ron’s break up, Hermione had yet to find her own flat. It was nice to have Harry around on a near-constant basis—even if he did have a tendency to flood their kitchen table with unfinished paperwork on the weekends. 

Hermione cleared a space for her bags, then tilted her head when something on one of the parchments caught her eye. “Is this the Wagstaff case?”

Harry hummed his agreement, though his attention stayed on the paperwork in front of him. His naturally dishevelled hair was even more unkempt than usual, sticking up in random places where his fingers must have gripped. 

“Aren’t the Aurors presenting their evidence for that case on Tuesday?”

A soft grunt filled the room as Harry rubbed his temples. “Yes, hence why I need to get this done.”

Harry’s focus returned to the parchment while Hermione bit the inside of her lip. It would have been easier to broach the subject without his attention pulled by overflowing work. 

“If you want someone to look them over, I could help.”

His quill paused. Slowly, Harry turned his gaze to Hermione, eyes narrowed. “You haven’t offered to review my paperwork in years. Always that line about how it would be _unfair_ if someone on the Wizengamot helped.” He glanced at her shopping bags, then peered back at her. “What did you do? Please say it’s not another cat.”

“Nothing,” came Hermione’s immediate response, feeling the nerves in her stomach start to bubble. “I’m just in good spirits now that my Christmas shopping is done.” Harry’s suspicious glare tracked her movements as she pulled a cup off a shelf and began pouring herself some tea. “Oh, and I invited Malfoy over for Christmas.”

“You did _what?”_

When the cup was full, Hermione turned to face Harry’s incredulous stare and sighed. “I ran into him at Hogsmeade, and the invitation just kind of… tumbled out.” She felt a blush threaten to reveal itself—an inconvenient reaction she wished she could control. “Besides, it’s not a done deal. He said he needs to think about it.”

“Great!” Harry remarked, clapping his hands on his thighs. “Then we can revoke it no problem, no damage done.”

“Harry!”

“Yes?”

_“Harry.”_

Hermione crossed her arms against her chest in a firm fold, and Harry took the hint.

He let out a long, exasperated groan. “Isn’t it enough that we already have to deal with him at work? Let alone how much more I have to see him now because of Theo.”

“You know he’s not as intolerable as he used to be. He and I get along just fine these days,” Hermione said, refusing to acknowledge the voice in the back of her mind saying that sometimes—one time—they got along better than “just fine.” For the second time in an hour, she forced away the memory. “Or at the very least, consider Theo. Won’t he be glad to have his own friend here instead of just me?”

Harry canted his head, clearly still not thrilled at the prospect, but Hermione’s intentions stayed steady.

She took the chair next to him and breathed in deep. “Harry, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Harry’s gaze softened, and she was sure he understood exactly what she meant. Molly had invited them to the Burrow, but neither she nor Harry felt right attending now that he was dating Theo and Hermione was no longer with Ron. With Harry’s parents long gone, Theo’s father among those locked up in Azkaban, and Hermione’s parents still living in Australia with no recollection of their daughter, it had made sense for the three of them to do something together. But now, it seemed they had someone else in need of the same holiday companionship. 

The tap of Harry’s quill punctuated the silence until he tipped his head back and sighed. When he looked back at Hermione, he held her gaze intently. “If I say he can come, does this count as your Christmas present?”

Hermione swatted him on the shoulder, and his resulting chuckle broke the tension, lightening the entire kitchen.

“No, it does not. We are doing the right thing by inviting him!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Harry said. “Cause we always need to be the bigger people, right?” He rolled his eyes, but a trace of amusement slipped through his snorted laugh. Harry gave his head a subtle shake. “We’ll see how much I regret this.”

With the decision made, Harry returned to his paperwork, and Hermione sipped her tea as her levitated shopping bags followed her upstairs. In the privacy of her room, she took out her newly purchased presents and began wrapping them. It was a peaceful process, one Hermione traditionally enjoyed. Only this year, she spent the entire time trying to convince herself that she wasn’t looking forward to potentially having Malfoy join them for Christmas.

~*~*~

The week before Christmas was always lively at the Ministry. Purple parchment aeroplanes zipped through the halls while everyone rushed to finish their workloads prior to the holiday. After over two hundred cases of varying degrees of importance in the past three weeks, Hermione looked forward to the Wizengamot’s recess between Christmas and the start of the new year. 

Hermione had barely gotten settled in her office when there was a knock on her door. She assumed it would be another member of the Wizengamot. To her surprise, Malfoy entered instead.

He wore his Auror uniform—an outfit she had seen him wear countless times—yet Hermione had to stare down at some parchments to prevent herself from thinking too much about how attractive he looked.

“I didn’t think we were expecting you again until next year,” Hermione greeted him. When she had reviewed the Wizengamot’s schedule for the week, she distinctly recalled not seeing his name. Not for any particular reason. A mere consequence of having a keen eye for details. 

“Actually, I’m here to tell you that I will no longer be presenting at the Travers trial on January 5th.” 

Her attention whipped upward. “Since when?”

“This morning.” Malfoy slid a parchment onto her desk, then stepped back towards the door. “Rykle is taking over as lead of the case. That document verifies the change.”

Hermione was silent. In all her years at the Wizengamot, she couldn’t remember the presenting Auror changing so last minute. If the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was taking him off as lead this close to the trial date, there must be a good reason.

A beat of concern rippled through her. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Malfoy immediately assured her. “But I—” His words cut away, seeming to want to tell her something, but nothing ever came. Instead, he shook his head and repeated, “I’m fine. You needn’t worry about me. In fact, I also came to ask what I should bring for Christmas.”

Concern washed away, instantly replaced by a spark of joy. 

“I appreciate the offer, but that isn’t necessary,” Hermione said, maintaining her tone as even as possible. “Harry and I were already planning on doing everything, so you just need to bring yourself.”

“Ah, but I insist,” Malfoy said. “My mother raised me to always bring something to a party, and I intend to do just that.”

Hermione briefly startled. She hadn’t expected him to mention his mother.

Knotted nerves tangled in her stomach as Hermione gathered her hair over one shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Malfoy blinked at her. “Granger, it was over six months ago.” 

“I know,” she said with a feeble shrug. “But it’s still your first holiday without her.” 

A thin, glassy sheen glossed over his eyes, but he quickly batted it away. 

“Thank you,” he said. “She’d be happy knowing I have someone else to spend the holiday with.” 

The sentiment hung in the air for several seconds as a discernible, though not uncomfortable, tension draped around them, before Malfoy cleared his throat.

“While we’re on the topic of long-ago events, I believe I’m overdue in offering you a different thanks.”

Hermione wrinkled her brow. “For what?”

“Your vote on my behalf.”

“Malfoy, that was three years ago.”

“As I said, overdue.”

He placed his hand in his pockets, then paced forward, taking careful steps closer to her desk. 

“If the Wizengamot hadn’t voted to end my probation early, I never would have joined the Aurors—a job I have been most proud of despite some continued resentment towards my employment. I know what a risk you took by voting in my favour, especially with it being your first year as a member.”

Hermione swallowed. “Twenty-five other members also voted for you.”

“True,” Malfoy accepted, reaching the edge of her desk. “But your vote is the one that means the most to me.”

His molten silver stare bore straight into Hermione’s memory—a look so similar to one she had seen the night she tried so hard to forget—and she was immediately transported. 

To Halloween. To the Ministry’s Gala. To the terrace. 

She averted her eyes before any more flashes of that night popped across her vision. 

Malfoy took a step back and straightened himself upright.

“Anyway, I best return to my department,” he said, clearing his throat once more. “If there’s something specific you want me to bring, tell Potter. Otherwise, I’ll surprise you.”

He left Hermione alone with her escalating heartbeat.

~*~*~

Christmas morning passed in a blur of pyjamas, pastries, and presents. Hermione and Harry spent that part of the day alone, enjoying the simplicity of just the two of them before Theo and Malfoy joined them in the afternoon. Theo arrived first, making his presence known the moment he stepped through the Floo with a loud cry of, “Happy Christmas!” and a prompt kiss to his boyfriend’s lips—even though Hermione had been in the middle of asking Harry a question about the status of their roast.

The loud, clanging of the doorbell came shortly after that. With Harry and Theo immersed in conversation, Hermione volunteered to answer. A thousand buzzing Billywigs seemed to fill her stomach as she walked to the door. When she opened it, that buzzing transformed into a swarming symphony.

As predicted, Malfoy was standing on the other side. As _not_ predicted, he was wearing black Muggle trousers and a crimson jumper. It was nothing remarkable. Hermione had seen millions of men wear similar outfits. Yet, seeing Draco Malfoy look so casually handsome made Hermione freeze in the doorframe.

“Did you invite me to your Christmas just to make me wait outside?”

Hermione shook herself back to focus and stepped aside.

“You look nice,” she said as he entered. After all, it was Christmas. It couldn’t hurt telling him that.

Malfoy smiled, eyes scanning the emerald a-line dress she had selected for the occasion. “You as well.”

Hermione was fairly certain her cheeks matched the colour of his jumper. Only then did she notice the covered dish he was holding. 

“Here, let me,” she offered, taking the dish from his hands. “What is it?”

“Cranberry sauce,” Malfoy answered as he hung his coat on the rack. “Figured you’d prefer something homemade. Plus, I know you like cranberries.”

Hermione cracked the lid. “Please tell me this isn’t from a can.”

Malfoy’s laughter echoed down the entry hall. “Give me _some_ credit. My cooking abilities may be minimal, but I can boil water with sugar and cranberries.”

In theory, she heard his response, but her mind had already travelled elsewhere, only now processing the second half of what he had previously said. “Wait. How do you know I like cranberries?”

Malfoy grinned. “You drink vodka cranberries.”

“Draco!”

Theo’s boisterous cry rang through the house as he wished Malfoy a happy Christmas with a hug and a slap on the back. Neither seemed to notice when Hermione slipped by them and took Malfoy’s cranberry dish into the kitchen. She hardly noticed herself. Her feet moved by their own accord while her mind whirled. 

There was no way he remembered. Someone must have told him. Or it was a lucky guess.

“What in Merlin’s name could have you thinking that hard on Christmas?”

The sound of Harry’s voice broke her trance.

She snapped to face him. “What’s my favourite drink?”

“What?”

“If we were at a pub right now, what would I order?”

Harry scratched at his cheek. “Uh, a butterbeer?” 

Not even her best friend of fifteen years knew her drink order.

“Why? Do you want a drink?”

Hermione shook her head before craning to peer at Malfoy from beyond the opened door. He was chatting with Theo as they slowly made their way down the hallway toward the kitchen. A brief flicker of Malfoy’s silver gaze aimed her way, landing squarely on Hermione for a splinter of a second before she turned back to find Harry still looking perplexed.

A handful of footsteps later, Theo entered the kitchen, closely followed by Malfoy, who made a show of glancing around the room.

“I’m pleased to see you haven’t managed to completely defile the Black family home.”

Budding annoyance replaced Harry’s confusion, but Malfoy knocked him with an elbow before any deeper irritation brewed.

“I’m messing with you, Potter.” He stuck out his hand. “Thank you for having me.”

The room froze. Harry stared at the proffered hand until Theo gave him a nudge, and finally—after fifteen years’ rejection—he took Malfoy’s hand and shook it.

“Happy to have you.”

They continued to congregate in the kitchen while dinner finished cooking. Despite his previous wariness, Harry hadn’t stopped talking with Malfoy since their handshake—though Hermione would have appreciated _some_ assistance with the final preparations. 

She was in the process of setting out water glasses when Theo sidled next to her.

“This is cute, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning against the table.

Water glasses in place, she stepped around Theo to crack the oven door and check on the roast turkey. “And just what exactly are you referring to?”

“This.” Theo motioned his hands around the kitchen. “Makes for a cute little Christmas double date.”

The oven door slipped out of her grip and slammed closed. 

“By no means is this a double date,” Hermione said. Her cheeks flushed in a tell-tale flare that no amount of effort could stifle. “I invited Malfoy because I thought he could use the company today.”

Theo chuckled. “Right. And I’m straight, and my father is proud of me.” He pushed himself off the counter then raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, Hermione. I saw you two at the Ministry’s Halloween Gala.”

Her stomach dropped. She didn’t think anyone had noticed.

“Whatever you may have seen was purely platonic.”

“Liar.”

She tried to block the memory again, but this time, it sharpened into full focus, like a picture-perfect film preserved for safe-keeping.

_Flushed from the heat of three hundred witches and wizards mingling inside a country estate ballroom—not to mention the alcohol flooding her system—Hermione stumbled onto the terrace to refresh her lungs. She savoured a few gulps of cool country air before discovering that she wasn’t alone._

_Malfoy stared ahead at the dark hedges and manicured lawns while one arm rested atop the railing. A lit cigarette danced between his fingertips._

_“Do you know what Muggle doctors have to say about those?”_

_Malfoy looked back at her and huffed. “Right now, I couldn’t care less.” He took a drag as Hermione walked towards him, and smoke billowed from his lips in a cloud. “We all have our vices. This one happens to be mine. A couple cigarettes a year saved for when I’m in high-stress situations won’t kill me.”_

_“And you consider a party high-stress?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed._

_Malfoy barked a laugh. “That’s not a party. That’s a room filled with people who still stare at me like a Death Eater, not their co-worker.”_

_“Then why’d you come?”_

_“Because I refuse to let them think stares will stop me.”_

_Silence fell between them as he took another drag. Hermione tapped her fingers against her glass, uncertain what to say in response._

_“I hope you don’t think I look at you that way.”_

_His cigarette fell to the ground, and he stomped it out with the toe of his shoe._

_“Granger, you’re one of the few who don’t.”_

_How long they stood unspeaking after that, Hermione would never know with certainty. All she knew was that her glass had been full when she stepped outside, and now it was near-empty._

_“Would you like another?”_

_She startled at the question, finding him watching her, and nodded._

_“A vodka cranberry, please.”_

_A few minutes later, he returned with two fresh glasses: a whisky neat and a vodka cranberry._

_Music from within the ballroom meandered idly around them for several seconds until Malfoy broke the stillness._

_“I hope that_ Prophet _article isn’t the reason for your drinking tonight.”_

_Hermione paused mid-sip then placed her glass on the rail._

_“It… may be a factor.”_

_“Nobody takes Sandra Cornblatt seriously,” Malfoy dismissed. “She makes Rita Skeeter look like a hard-hitting journalist.”_

_Hermione snickered at that, though it didn’t make her feel much better. She breathed in deep. “But she’s not entirely wrong. I may not be the work-obsessed, heartless, doomed spinster who ‘drove’ Ron away that she claims I am, but I do prioritise my job over many other things in my life. Ron and I never had similar outlooks on work habits, and it was one of the contributing factors to our break up.”_

_She didn’t know why she was being so open with him. No more than five years ago, Malfoy would have taken these confessions and twisted them into torments for the whole school to hear. Maybe alcohol loosened her lips and spoke for her. Regardless of the reason, it was nice to talk with someone about it—even if that person was Malfoy._

_“It doesn’t need to be a choice between your relationship and your job,” he said after what felt like several minutes of thought and consideration. He offered her a faint, earnest smile. “One day, you’ll find the right wizard who admires and supports your work, and hopefully you’ll feel the same about him.”_

_For the first time since reading yesterday’s_ Prophet _, some of Hermione’s despondency dissipated._

_“That’s… nice of you to say.”_

_Malfoy’s smile stretched a bit bigger. “I have my moments.”_

_The music swelled in the background, filling up the space where they might speak, leaving a peaceful quiet between them. They stared into the night-covered garden and sipped their respective drinks._

_The clank of Malfoy’s glass against the stone rail pulled Hermione’s attention back to him. The moonlight caught in his eyes, revealing a silver sparkle._

_“Why don’t we set aside our vices for a moment and try to enjoy this party?”_

_Hermione blinked at him. “I thought you said this wasn’t a party.”_

_“Perhaps not in there,” Malfoy answered. “But I think we could make it work out here on our own.”_

_He lifted his hand, palm faced upward, open for Hermione to accept. She stared at it for a handful of seconds, not sure what to make of the offer. That hesitation faded when Hermione realised that she didn’t need to overthink it. What harm could there be in seeing what Malfoy had in mind?_

_The moment her hand reached his, he secured his hold and guided her away from the rail. He settled one hand on the small of her back and lined their bodies face-to-face. The soft string melodies from within the ballroom served as their soundtrack as she and Malfoy danced in tranquil solitude._

_Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was a good dancer. No doubt his proper pureblood upbringing made sure of that. They glided across the terrace, their feet and Hermione’s heartbeat moving in time with the music. It was simple. Pleasant. For the span of a song, Hermione let her alcohol-addled mind lose itself to the effortless serenity of dancing with Draco Malfoy._

_When the song ended, he gave Hermione one final twirl. Her dress robes fluttered around her ankles, though her heart fluttered more. The spinning stopped, and she was back to facing Malfoy, their chests mere inches apart._

_She peered up at him, once again finding that silver sparkle in his gaze. It gleamed even brighter this time, now paired with a dashing smile. He was handsome—that much Hermione already knew, even if she never allowed herself to dwell on such thoughts. That had hardly felt relevant when the person beneath that exterior was so vile. Except, he wasn’t anymore._

_Draco Malfoy had grown into a respectable wizard, despite what some other people in the Ministry may think. He did good work and seemed to respect what Hermione did as well._

_His hold steadied her, body slightly off-balance from the hammering in her chest and the alcohol in her bloodstream. When his thumb brushed over the curve of her cheek, her heart stammered._

_Slowly, Malfoy’s eyelids drifted closed, and he started to lean in. The stirring behind her ribcage begged her to do the same. No other thought was necessary. She could fall into the moment and never look back._

_If only her brain let her. Logic broke through her drunken haze, and she pressed a hand against his chest before their lips could connect._

_“You’re presenting to the Wizengamot on Thursday,” she said._

_Malfoy blinked. “So?”_

_Recognition flickered in his gaze._

_“Oh.” He swallowed. “It’s just a kiss, Granger.”_

_Hermione glanced downward. “I don’t know if I could do ‘just a kiss.’”_

_Something shattered behind his eyes, made that much worse when Hermione popped onto her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek instead._

_“Thank you for the dance.”_

Hermione blinked herself back to present where Theo stared at her with his eyebrow raised. Her mouth hung parted, unable to speak. Now that she had permitted herself to relive that night, she didn’t know how to shove it back to the dark crevices of her brain.

But she had to try.

“We danced. That’s it,” she said. The words were difficult to form when her tongue felt so heavy. “Now if you’ll move out of the way, I need to get the turkey out.”

With their food nearly ready, Hermione instructed Theo to finish setting the table and get the Wizarding Crackers. It was her own mistake for trusting him. When she went to take her place at the end of the table, it wasn’t there. Theo had rearranged the seats so instead of one on each side, they were now seated two-and-two. With Theo already seated next to Harry. And one seat left. Right next to Malfoy.

Theo grinned at her. “Something the matter?”

She was starting to regret spending so much time and effort picking out a gift for him. 

The chair legs scraped against the floor as Hermione drew back the seat and sat down next to Malfoy. At least this meant she wouldn’t have to look at him while eating. Perhaps this would actually be better. 

“Dinner smells delicious.”

Hermione took it back. A single whisper in her ear and she knew this dinner would be a nightmare. Where was a vodka cranberry when she needed it?

The Wizarding Crackers sat in the middle of the table, and the boys each reached for one. Hermione waited, an intentional delay so as not to risk even the slightest bump of her hand against Malfoy’s. 

One by one, they twisted the crackers, filling the room with a series of small pops, scattered confetti, and blue smoke. Each cracker also contained a festive hat: Hermione got a winged helmet, Harry a construction hat, Theo a sombrero, and Malfoy a jester’s cap. She was not thinking about how stupidly cute Malfoy looked with it on. Absolutely not.

It didn’t help that Theo kept waggling his eyebrows whenever she so much as glanced Malfoy’s way.

“You have some confetti in your hair.”

Her whole body jolted when Malfoy’s fingers were suddenly by her neck, picking a stray piece of confetti from her curls. She shifted her head to face him, eyes blown wide in shock. But when she met his silver stare, her tension melted. 

Merlin help her, those same flutters that had lifted her heart on Halloween night returned. As much as she had tried to deny them, they persisted.

But nothing had changed since then. They still shouldn’t be together.

She broke their eye contact and pulled out her wand, vanishing all confetti from sight. With the mess gone, she glared at Theo and his massive, cheeky grin.

“Help me grab the entrées,” Hermione directed as she pushed back her chair.

“You’re a witch,” Theo taunted. “You can charm them yourself.”

_“Theodore.”_

“Okay, okay!”

It didn’t afford them much privacy, but it was enough distance to allow Hermione to cast a quick _Muffliato_ without either Harry or Malfoy noticing.

“Are you enjoying this?” she snapped at him.

“Immensely.”

Hermione huffed. “Well, too bad, because I’m going to need you to stop.”

“When it’s obvious there’s some sort of tension between you two? Give me one good reason why.”

Any potential responses sank like cannonballs from her throat to her stomach. She licked her lips, trying to think of a reason she could give, but she knew Theo would wrestle it out of her eventually.

She inhaled deep, then tried again.

“Let’s just say, hypothetically, even if there _was_ a part of me that had considered potentially being attracted to Malfoy, nothing could come of it. As a member of the Wizengamot, it would be a conflict of interest for me to date an Auror.”

Theo gaped, but his response wasn’t what Hermione anticipated.

“Sweet Salazar, he hasn’t told you?”

“Hasn’t told me what?”

Hermione stared at Theo, but all he did was laugh.

“Oh, no.” His smile somehow grew even larger. “I’m not going to be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me _what?”_

He winked as he grabbed the roast. “You’ll see.”

If she thought sitting next to Malfoy was difficult before, now, it was nearly impossible. Throughout dinner, she didn’t bother hiding how often she looked Malfoy’s way. Every word he uttered, Hermione kept on wondering what Malfoy _wasn’t_ saying. 

The meal was near complete when Theo asked Hermione to pass the pudding.

“I’ve always been a big fan of pudding,” he said as he took a few spoonfuls onto his plate. “But you know which has always been my favourite? The pudding at Hogwarts.”

Malfoy’s gaze snapped to Theo.

“Quite a great place, Hogwarts, don’t you think?” Theo asked. “Wonder what it would be like to go back.”

 _“Theo,”_ Malfoy growled, but Harry didn’t seem to notice.

Harry scratched the back of his head. “I mean, yeah. You know how I feel about Hogwarts. Are you… Do you want me to see if we can visit for the next Quidditch match?”

“Might be nice,” Theo said, an impish glint appearing in his gaze. “Might even have someone to visit while we’re there.”

Theo looked at Malfoy who glared back at him.

“I _thought_ you said you could keep it a secret,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Technically, I have kept said secret,” Theo returned with a smirk. “But I was growing bored, and this is more fun.”

Harry appeared confused while Hermione turned to Malfoy, heart caught in her throat.

Malfoy pinched his bridge, sighed, then looked straight ahead.

“Beginning next week, I’ll be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

“You’re what?”

“You’re _WHAT?”_ Harry’s cry was even louder than Hermione’s. “But you’re a good Auror."

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. “If that’s my Christmas present from you, I’ll take it.”

Hermione blinked several times, fairly certain she was close to gawking, while her mind reeled. 

“You’re replacing Professor Berrycloth?”

Malfoy pulled the napkin off his lap and set it next to his plate. “I was planning on saving this conversation for _after_ dinner, but yes. Professor Berrycloth had a family emergency and had to step down at the end of first term. She asked that her privacy be respected at this time, so McGonagall didn’t have me come in to complete the final paperwork until last Saturday after most of the students were gone.”

“Which is why you were in Hogsmeade.”

A faint smile tugged the corners of Malfoy’s lips. “You always were a brilliant witch.”

There was no point attempting to hide her blush anymore. 

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Robards asked me not to tell anyone at the Ministry until everything was finalised, which it now is. The announcement will be in tomorrow’s _Prophet.”_

Across the table, Theo’s smirk took up half his face. “Which means Draco won’t be an Auror much longer.”

Hermione returned her gaze to Malfoy, and her heart lifted. 

_No, he wouldn’t._

But before Hermione could say anything else, Malfoy pushed his chair backwards and rose from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air.”

Once Malfoy disappeared out the door, Harry stared at Theo in disbelief. “You knew about this?”

But Theo wasn’t paying attention to Harry; he was still smirking at Hermione.

“So,” he started, “do I have to tell you to go after him, or are you going to do it yourself?”

Hermione was out the kitchen door no more than two seconds later. 

When she reached the front step, Malfoy already had a cigarette in hand, wand poised to light it. The tip of his wand fell when he saw Hermione.

“Granger, what are you—”

His words fell short as Hermione grabbed hold of his crimson sweater, bringing his lips to hers. There was no hesitation in her kiss. Nor in his. He took her face in his hands and pulled her closer, sealing their lips together in the sweet realisation of what she’d denied him two months prior.

When they pulled away, he kept both hands on her cheeks as his silver eyes searched hers.

“I didn’t quit because I thought it might help this happen.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“I just wanted to do something good at Hogwarts after all the trouble I caused it.”

“And you’re going to be brilliant.”

He leaned in for another kiss, and Hermione couldn’t think of anything more she wanted for Christmas.

The kiss broke sooner than Hermione would have preferred, but it was made all the better knowing there would be more like it to come.

Malfoy peered down at her with a smile. “How about you and I get drinks the Friday after next to celebrate my first week of teaching?”

“I’d like that very much.”

Two weeks later, they did precisely that. Hogsmeade was quieter now, with the Hogwarts students in session and the holiday shopping rush complete. Hardly anyone was around to witness as Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy walked hand in hand to the Three Broomsticks. In the comfort of a booth in the back, they clinked their vodka cranberry and whisky neat glasses and cheersed to the start of a new year and a new beginning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, everyone!
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated and bring all the joy ❤️
> 
> Come chat with me on Tumblr: [@niffizzle](https://niffizzle.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
